


My Turn to Drive

by Sorryimnotthatkindofdoctor



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Hair Pulling, Language, NSFW, dom reader, oral sex (female receiving), sub dean (for a bit)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 21:52:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7009576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sorryimnotthatkindofdoctor/pseuds/Sorryimnotthatkindofdoctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The reader decides to take a more active role in her & Dean's relationship...</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Turn to Drive

**Author's Note:**

> Teaser:
> 
> “Good boy,” you whisper, nipping at the hard line of muscle before pulling back. You relax your grip just slightly, letting his head fall forward a bit. When he reaches for you, you tighten your hand, forcing his head back again. 
> 
> “Unh-uh,” you smile. “I’m driving tonight.” His tongue flashes out, drawing his lower lip back into his teeth for a second.
> 
> “If you think you can, sweetheart,” he says, his voice driven even deeper by the angle of his throat and the pressure on his larynx. Your eyes narrow and you yank his hair back, being just this side of too rough, and push with your body so that he’s forced back against the wall, head pulled back and to the side. This time when you push in, it’s not a nip but a bite. You latch your lips onto him and suck a dark mark into the base of his throat where it meets his clavicle. He groans as you pull away and lave at the spot with your tongue.

Dean’s neck flexes as you wrap your fingers in his hair and pull. His eyes flash with a combination of lust and aggression as you force his head back. He swallows, Adam’s apple pushing out against the strained muscle. You lean forward, letting the tip of your tongue slip out to trace a hot, wet line up the tendon of his neck. His pulse races under your tongue, blood flushing the skin of his throat. He grunts and tilts his head to the side, opening up a greater access to his throat for you.

“Good boy,” you whisper, nipping at the hard line of muscle before pulling back. You relax your grip just slightly, letting his head fall forward a bit. When he reaches for you, you tighten your hand, forcing his head back again.

“Unh-uh,” you smile. “I’m driving tonight.” His tongue flashes out, drawing his lower lip back into his teeth for a second.

“If you think you can, sweetheart,” he says, his voice driven even deeper by the angle of his throat and the pressure on his larynx.  Your eyes narrow and you yank his hair back, being just this side of too rough, and push with your body so that he’s forced back against the wall, head pulled back and to the side. This time when you push in, it’s not a nip but a bite. You latch your lips onto him and suck a dark mark into the base of his throat where it meets his clavicle. He groans as you pull away and lave at the spot with your tongue.

Dean’s hands are on your hips and you feel the power of his body against you. You know that he’s basically letting you have control right now – you know how easily he could turn the tables and take the power back. And the fact that he’s not, that he’s giving himself over to this, is incredibly sexy. You readjust your grip in his hair and pull away from him.

“Take off my pants,” you order and Dean smirks, his hands slowly moving across your hips to the button of your jeans. The backs of his fingers dance across your belly, a few fingers dipping below the waistband as he works the button before slowly dragging the zipper down. Hooking fingers into your belt loops, he pulls and wriggles the tight material over your hips, forcing it down your thighs until it’s at your knees. He can’t bend over any further with your hand in his hair, so instead he stands back up and grabs your hips, holding you steady as he brings his foot up and puts it in the crotch of your jeans to push it all the way down. You use the grip in his hair to stabilize you as you toe off your boots and step out of the denim pooled at your feet, kicking it to the side.

“Pretty,” Dean mumbles, looking down at the lacy blue panties that cover your lower half. His thumbs rub slow, rough circles over your hip bones.

“Touch me.” Your command is instantly obeyed. Dean rubs his hand over your sex, feeling the dampness of your panties before he pushes the fabric to the side and begins sliding his fingers through your folds. He circles your clit, dips a long, thick finger into you and pulls your wet heat back out to rub at the sensitive nub.

“Mmmm,” you moan, hips slowly pumping against his fingers. Your free hand roams your upper body, rubbing and plucking at your nipples through the thin fabric of your shirt and bra, watching as Dean’s eyes go dark. He tries to bring his other hand up, but you slap it away.

“What’d I say?” you ask, voice quiet and commanding. In answer, Dean thrusts two fingers up inside your pussy, scissoring them back and forth before crooking them to push against that special spot inside you. You grasp at his shoulder, hissing in pleasure before he stops and goes back to simply rubbing at your clit.

“That you’re driving,” Dean says, his voice and smile smug. “What can I say, sweetheart? I’m a backseat driver.” You pause, thinking of him naked and hard, hovering over you in the backseat of the Impala and you shudder. But you don’t want to lose control. Not yet.

“No backseat driving allowed.” You reach down and grab his wrist, pulling his fingers away from you. Dean watches, eyes wide as you bring his fingers up to your mouth and slip them inside.

“Fuck,” he mutters as your tongue licks at his fingers. You can taste yourself on him, salty and slightly bitter. You use your tongue to press his fingers to the roof of your mouth, holding them there as you suck heavily. You can almost see the desire on Dean’s face to have that suction applied to other parts of him. You finally pull his fingers out of your mouth, hand still latched around his arm. You press the flat of your tongue to his pulse in his wrist, feeling it bang out hard and fast.

“I think I want you to eat me out,” you say, reestablishing your grip in his hair. Dean blinks at you, licking his lips again. Slowly, ever so slowly, you begin to pull his hair, forcing his head to bend back. Eventually, it’s bent so far back, his neck straining and the tendons a visible line under the flesh, that he has to start bending his back. You move with him, your body accommodating as he has to start sinking to his knees to keep the pressure on his neck from being painful.

“That’s better,” you smirk as Dean finally falls to his knees before you, head pulled back against the wall. His hands come up, fingers tracing your calves before latching onto your legs just above your knees. You angle his head so that he can breathe a little easier and step forward, your dripping sex now directly in front of his face. He tries to push forward a few times, licking his lips as he smells your pleasure.

“Come on, babe,” he finally says, resting his head back against the wall, eyes dark with desire and hunger. You release the pressure on his hair just enough and nod. Dean surges forward. He wastes no time in teasing, tongue going straight for your clit. You groan, body hunching over as you pull his hair. Dean grunts and presses his face deeper between your legs. You feel the scratch of his perpetual five-o-clock shadow against your cunt and groan.

“Fuck, yeah.” The words are punched out of you, breathless and heady with the fast burn of release that’s building in your belly. You begin to thrust your hips as he moves down and begins spearing his tongue into you, fucking you with it. One hand comes up and he rubs his thumb over your clit – hard, fast circles that have you shaking with need.

“Come on, Dean,” you whisper from above him. “Make me cum. Make me cum,” you order, the words coming out more like a plea. His other hand comes up and latches onto your hip, dragging you forward. Your hand tightens in his hair and then you’re riding his face, your free hand on the wall for balance as he slips his thumb in alongside his tongue, pressing the pad of it against your g-spot and just holding it there.

“Oh shit,” you say and your body shakes apart. Your orgasm is sudden and bright, like a flash of lightning. You can feel yourself tremble on his tongue as he continues to eat you out. Finally, you have to use your grip on his hair to push his face away, your sex sensitive and pulsing. You release his hair as you stumble back, but Dean doesn’t let you go far. He grabs at your waist as he stands. His face is shiny with your slick, pupils blown. You can see the line of his scalp is red from where you pulled at his hair.

Dean grabs you and pulls you in for a kiss. You taste yourself on his tongue, feel yourself on his lips, on his face. Then he brings a hand up and wraps it in your hair at the base of your neck and pulls slightly. You break the kiss and look at him as he backs you up. You feel the mattress hit your legs and he smiles, giving another tug to your hair.

“My turn to drive,” is all he says before throwing you to the mattress.

END


End file.
